Sidor

23.3.11

Elizabeth Taylor

She was so extraordinarily beautiful that I nearly laughed out loud.
She is famine, fire, destruction, and plague, she is the Dark Lady of the Sonnets, the on lie true begetter.
Her breasts were apocalyptic, they would topple empires down before they withered.
She was, in short, too bloody much.
Those huge violet-blue eyes had an odd glint in them.
Aeons passed, civilizations came and went, brave men and cowards died in battles not yet fought, while those cosmic headlights examined my flawed personality.
Every pockmark on my face became a crater of the moon.